


Frazzled

by Anon6285_omo (Anonymous6285)



Series: Beatles Omorashi [43]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Bed-Wetting, Established Relationship, Omorashi, Secrets, Sickfic, secret kinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25897489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous6285/pseuds/Anon6285_omo
Summary: George wets the bed, and Paul figures out John’s secret.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Series: Beatles Omorashi [43]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612729
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Frazzled

George was sick, which wasn’t the most absolutely horrible thing ever, but the others seemed just about over it. Paul had been his cook, always in charge of making sure he had whatever the hell he wanted, and a grumpy guitarist wasn’t the best to cook for. Ringo was in the shower after George had puked on him for the second time that week. And John was to watch out for him when the other two couldn’t, just in a bad mood, pissed off at everybody.

Now, George was laying in bed, his eyes closed, but he wasn’t asleep. He was definitely thinking of getting up, because of how full his bladder was. He’d gotten up every hour or so to use the toilet, probably because of how much fluids Paul was forcing him to drink, but he really didn’t want to get up.

Maybe he could just go and pretend he wet the bed… then his friends wouldn’t be too mad at him. It’d still be incredibly embarrassing, though, so maybe he’d just get up and go.

He groaned as he rolled over in bed and padded out of the room, coming up to a closed bathroom door. Oh, well. At least he didn’t have to go too bad. He waited until the shower water turned off and the next few minutes until Ringo walked out with a towel around his waist.

“Oh, hey, Geo. Feeling any better?” He shrugged.

“I’m fine.” Without saying more, he sneaked past the drummer and slammed the door to the bathroom shut, finally positioning himself above the loo and letting go.

It felt so nice, finally able to go, but he felt something hot on his leg and side. And as he continued to pee, the feeling spread. Worry filled him when there was a hand on his shoulder, and he couldn’t get over how warm his stomach felt.

“George?” came a voice from behind him, and he turned, but nobody was there. “George…” There was a crash, causing him to jump. Just then, everything went black. “Geo! Wake up!”

His eyes flew open, and he came face to face with John, mere inches away. He backed up.

“Erm, you…” He motioned down to George’s crotch, and as soon as the guitarist looked, he knew exactly why he felt so warm. But pee was still shooting out of him and soaking his pyjamas.

“Oh, shit…” He got up, but decided to stay where he was for fear of making a bigger mess than he already had. “God, I’m… I d-didn’t-- I thought I was awake.”

“It’s alright, just…” John got up from his spot on the bed and looked over at the shattered cup of water on the floor. “I’m gonna clean that up real quick. I knocked it over trying to get to you.” John blushed when he stood up all the way, and his shirt came up over his pants. George could have sworn he saw a bulge… 

But John was out of the door in seconds, speed walking into the kitchen, where Paul was making soup. He saw the state of John immediately as he tried to get past to his own room.

“Hey, wait, what’s the matter with you?!” He put down his wooden spoon and walked over to stop him, but John just crossed his hands in front of him, keeping his red eyes on the floor. “John…?”

“C-can you deal with George? H-he wet himself.”

“He what?” The bassist couldn’t hide the shock in his voice, but John walked all the way around him, never once moving his hands. So Paul went to George’s room, forgetting about the soup on the stove and saw what John seemed to be so dishevelled about.

“Paul--”

“What happened to John?” As George fumbled for words, Paul saw the glass on the floor. “Oh, god. Erm, why don’t you go get yourself cleaned up. I’ll deal with all this, alright?” George got up and hobbled awkwardly out of the room with his soaking wet pyjamas, standing outside of the toilet as Ringo showered.

By the time the drummer was opening the door, they were cold. “Georgie?” He first noticed that the younger man was… crying? And then he saw the pants. “Aw, love. Hey, you didn’t have to wait for me. I wouldn’t have minded if you just came in. I didn’t lock it, did I? I’m so sorr--”

“I pissed the bed,” George said, trying his best to sound unbothered, but failing miserably. Ringo’s eyes went wide.

“Oh! Did you need some help cleaning up? Why don’t you just shower, and I’ll--”

“Paul’s…” He trailed off.

“Oh, alright. I’ll go help him with that.” Before the guitarist could say anything else, he was wandering down the hall to check on Paul, and George had slipped into the toilet just as more tears started to roll down his cheeks.

Ringo came into the room as Paul was bent down over the floor, picking up the small pieces of glass on the floor, placing them in his hand.

“George didn’t seem… he looked really upset.”

“Yeah, I don’t know… John kind of ran out of the room, looked scared, almost. Maybe he yelled at George or something.” Ringo started to strip the sheet off of the bed, and Paul sighed. “He just ran off to his room, won’t even help us clean up. That prick.”

“Maybe we should check on him. Make sure he’s doing okay. George is in the shower now, I think.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Paul said nothing more about it, and so Ringo continued to help until George walked back in, going right to his dresser and pulling out a clean set of clothes.

“H-have you talked to John?” he asked shyly.

“No, why?” Paul looked up at him in curiosity. “Did something happen between you two?”

“Not really, he… I think he was hard..” Ringo blushed, avoiding looking up, afraid he might catch some of the second hand embarrassment. 

“Hard… as in--?”

“Yeah. That’s why he ran out. I hope I didn’t make him too uncomfortable or anything…” The other two looked over at him with confused faces, but he didn’t look away as he started to get dressed.

“Geo… maybe you should go talk to him…” Ringo suggested.

“Maybe nobody should,” Paul corrected. “Look, he’s probably embarrassed enough about George seeing him like that. I mean… it’s not like you haven’t before, but--”

“Paul, you two have been together a while. Are you sure he’s not into that or anything?” Ringo chuckled. “Have you even had that talk--”

“Into what?” Paul said quietly.

“I mean, Georgie pissed himself… and then John got hard…”

“Look, maybe he wasn’t,” George tried. “It’s nothing to worry about. Sorry I said anything.” Before he’d even finished dressing, though, Paul was out of the room. 

He hurried down the hall and started to knock on the door to John’s room. “Love, can I talk to you?” When he got no response, he opened the door to find John lying on the bed under the covers. His first thought was that John was jacking off, but then he heard little sniffles. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry…”

“What for?” Paul got closer to the bed.

“George told you, didn’t he? I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you sooner. You probably think I’m so gross now. God…”

“Wait, no, John, hey, talk to me, love. You’re not gross.” He got down closer to his boyfriend and snuck under the covers with him.

“You think I’m not gross?? How?” He blushed. “Poor Geo’s probably humiliated, and I got turned on by it!”

Paul laughed. “He’s alright. Besides, you didn’t do it on purpose.” Silence followed. “Look, you’re not the only one that’s weird like that, okay? So don’t be so hard on yourself about it.”

“What do you mean?” The bassist glanced away when John bore his eyes into his head. “Paul McCartney, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Oh, fuck off. At least I’m not into people pissing the bed!” John raised his eyebrows.

“What is it, then? What gets Paulie so frazzled?” With the reddest face on the planet, Paul ran his hand down John’s stomach and pushed it right into his pants, scrunching up the coarse hair he was met with. And John howled with laughter. “My pubes??”

“Shut up! Shut up!! I don’t want the others to hear you, John!” He quickly pulled his hand back to himself, snuggling up against the older man.

“How about one day,” John started, “I’ll piss myself, and I’ll let you clean me pubes for me, yeah?” Paul giggled.

“You sly bastard.” John's smile fell nervously. “Seriously, it’s okay. What are you going to tell George and Ringo, though? They’re the ones that wanted me to talk to you about it in the first place.”

“Fuck, I didn’t think of that… I guess I’ll just have to make us even. Do you think either one of them has a particular liking to pubic hair?”

“Shut the fuck up,” the bassist joked, John already getting up playfully and heading to the door. “John, no--! Wait! Come back! John--”

“Come and catch me!”

“You’re on!” He got up and jumped on John, knocking them both to the ground, and John couldn’t help but kiss him.

“Thanks, Macca. I love you so much.” He reached down and ran his fingers through Paul’s own pubic hair with a smirk. Paul just blushed.

“Love you, too, John.”


End file.
